


The Lucky Ones

by Talinor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Magic Shiro, Memory Loss, There will be a Major Character Death but there isn't yet, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: The dreams differ night to night- sometimes he sees a giant white building, an otherworldly castle overlooking an ocean. Sometimes he sees the vast expanse of space all around him, save for right in front of him. He sees a giant metallic creature with glinting yellow eyes staring down at him. Sometimes he sees the faces of people he's sure he's never met, and yet his heart aches to see them again.He doesn't understand what it all means. But what hecanunderstand is that such a simple thing used to be important to him somehow.Linkedto him somehow, some time long since passed.





	The Lucky Ones

**Author's Note:**

> another little drabble that got away from me whoops  
> title is from Youth by Daughter  
> enjoy!

Red.

It stains his uniform, both his own from a long while ago and a few rebellious workers. His guard uniform's shirt almost blends with it. A darker shade with darker splotches. The color is simple, and should hold no meaning to him.

But it _does._

Every time he sees it, a rush of a feeling he can't describe both fills and empties his chest. It scratches at his mind. Urging him to remember. Willing him to a night of blurry dreams.

The dreams differ night to night- sometimes he sees a giant white building, an otherworldly castle overlooking an ocean. Sometimes he sees the vast expanse of space all around him, save for right in front of him. He sees a giant metallic creature with glinting yellow eyes staring down at him. Sometimes he sees the faces of people he's sure he's never met, and yet his heart aches to see them again.

He doesn't understand what it all means. But what he _can_ understand is that such a simple thing used to be important to him somehow. _Linked_ to him somehow, some time long since passed.

Time is irrelevant in the Nether. It's disguised as a ship in progress, but it feels like a sleeping God. A figure that warps reality simply by existing. An otherworldly being with a heartbeat all it's own. He can still feel it under his feet, a steady rhythm that settled into your bones and slithered into your mind. It was strange to him at first, but now it's a comforting constant. As familiar to him as his own heartbeat. If he obeyed his superiors, it rewarded him with a flood of airy happiness. Part of his will ebbing away to give him a hollow head and a light heart.

If he didn't obey, however...

_He hisses as stinging pain rushes down his back as the Overseer's sword slices down onto him. Already he can feel the red rushing up to the wound, staining his torn uniform. The Overseer points their sword at his throat. The bloodstained tip grazes his chin and taps at it, making him stare up into an emotionless metallic face._

_"Now," their synthesized voice grates on his nerves. "Thank me for your pain, recruit. Obey."_

_Anger boils his blood, bubbling in his chest. He wants more than anything to take that sword and shove it through their circuitry. End whatever's happening here and get the hell out. And he would happily do so, if he could move._

_But, of course, he can still speak. That would have to be good enough for him for now._

_He gathers all the saliva he can get from his dry mouth and spits on them. It settles on their dark armor plating, around their chest. "Fuck you," he growls._

_His satisfaction lasts for all of two seconds before the collar linking him to the system activates. Electricity races into his veins, blinding him from all sensations except pain for the worst half-minute of his life. He can feel his throat vibrate with sound, but his own screams fall on deaf ears._

_After what feels like an eternity, the pain finally stops. The collar relaxes from it's constricting grip, allowing him a few shallow gasps._

_"Do not resist it, 3745," the Overseer's voice sounds far away, tinny and out of focus like a broken radio. Or a perfectly fine one singing to ringing ears. "That number is not random. I have broken 3744 recruits before you- some far more impressive than you. You are simply the next link in the chain. Many try to resist it at first as you do, out of a delusional sense of honor. But tell me something, 3745," the sword was back at his throat. "Is your honor really worth suffering this? Speak."_

_Keith's throat felt like dozens of cotton balls were stuffed down it. But when he spoke up, his voice was clear as day. "I have a name." He said, looking up in ragged defiance. "Use it."_

_"Wrong answer."_

Yet the reward was not enough. A part of him wasn't satisfied with being an obedient pawn. He'd wanted to fight back against those who took nearly everything he had- his hair, his friends, his memory of a better life away from the Nether's pressing walls.

But that was a long time ago, back when he first came here for a reason he now can't remember. Even that time feels like another life. Now he occasionally tested the master's leash to remind himself he's still alive. To _feel,_ as he once did. Before the fog of emptiness settled into his head.

Some days were better than others. Some days he actually laughed- a rare and wondrous thing to feel after heaviness and fake happiness. Some days he was able to sneak the starving workers expanding Nether parts of his lunch without punishment.

This day started out as one of the better ones.

"3745," a gentle voice sounded through his murky dreams. It bounced off the hollow walls and surrounded him in the purgatory of rest. The voice was familiar, welcome even. Heat bloomed in his chest as memories surfaced.

Sitting beside someone and watching the stars slowly scintillating. The scent of seawater and strange alien skin products lingering in bedsheets. The feeling of skin pressed against his own, warm and inviting. Calming as the lull of the sea. The color blue giving him butterflies in his stomach.

"3745, wake up." The voice was hushed but hurried now. A hand gently grasped his shoulder, shaking him awake. He was greeted by blue eyes and a slight scarred smile. "Had a good night's sleep?"

"Officer 3746," he breathed out. He scrambled out of his cot immediately, hurrying to salute. The gesture was practically muscle memory at this point. "Apologies sir," he said. "It won't happen again, I promise."

3746 chuckled at that. His eyes, despite seeing many horrors, still sparkled with the same lighthearted gleam that made 3745 instinctively calm down. "At ease, Guard." He said. 3745 put his arm down and started to fix his uniform for the day. "I gotta say though, you're awfully lucky. I couldn't get any sleep last night."

3745 paused and looked to him while strapping his red leathery armor. "Oh?" He raised a brow and continued preparing for the day. It was a quick process. Guards who couldn't fully put on their uniform in less than 2 minutes either went through 'special training' or were deemed useless. Many guards slept in portions of their uniforms because of this. "And why's that?"

3746 leaned against the doorway and raised a brow. "You haven't heard about 9098?"

He shook his head. "He's usually assigned to a different sector than I am," he said. He knew the man- a jittery young Galra. He always stayed to work in the lower sectors, with less people around. An innocent and kind-hearted recruit.

If he learned one thing in however long he'd been here, it was that people like 9098 either adapted and hardened to survive... or were swallowed alive by the Nether's darkness. It wasn't hard to assume which camp 9098 landed in.

3745 finished putting on his black boots and continued. "Why? What happened to him?"

"Spaced. They caught the poor bastard talking about how he missed his family," 3746 told him with a shake of his head. "Guess I should count myself lucky- I don't really have a family to miss." For a moment, he saw a fog glaze over those blue eyes. 3746's smile dropped and his brows furrowed. Like he was trying to remember something that slipped through the cracks. "Huh," he murmured. "That's funny. I just... Maybe I..." He trailed off.

 _"...Then there's Josie- she's small, but she's_ evil. _A little devil who loves sticking her nose where it doesn't belong."_

_Keith chuckled at that. "Sounds like she'd get along with Pidge pretty well," he said, leaning closer towards Lance. It was hard to see him through the cargo ship's shitty lighting and the shadows of some of the bigger 'recruits' packed with them. But it was nice to know he was there, at least. He sighed and rested his head on Lance's bony shoulder. "Your family sounds amazing."_

_"Yeah, they are," he said, voice soft and breath tickling his ear. For a perfect moment, he can close his eyes and forget where they were. Forget the worry and sleepless nights. Forget the looks on his teammates faces when he volunteered for this mission. Forget the guilt in his chest for dragging Lance along, making him feel like he needed to volunteer for what seemed to be a suicide mission just to stay at his side. Forget whatever lay in store for them- all he needed was this intimate moment, huddled together in their own little corner. "I bet they'd love to meet you."_

_"I'd love to meet them," his thumb absentmindedly traced Lance's knuckles. "When all this is over, I'd..." He faltered. It was something he'd wanted to say for a while- something that came to his mind whenever Lance mentioned Earth. He wanted to say it while he still could, but the words were heavy on his tongue. Hesitant to jump into the open air._

_A soft hand cupped his cheek, long fingers tracing his long hair. Keith instinctively leaned into the touch. "Go on," he assured softly. "I'm listening. You'd...?"_

_He smiled. "I..." His throat suddenly felt drier. He licked his lips nervously, buying himself time to get the right words together. "When all this is over, I want to live with you. Wherever you want to go. For as long as you'll have me."_

_Lance's eyes widened at that, but his surprise quickly melted into fondness. He returned the smile and leaned closer. "And you think you're not a romantic, Samurai," he teased. Any comeback on Keith's lips died when they were met with Lance's own._

Something about that statement felt... wrong. 3745 couldn't put a finger on it, but something about it felt off. He could feel a corner of his brain protest against it. Kicking and screaming and pleading for him to _remember, please remember._

In a moment, it was over. Washing off his back and out of his mind with ease.

3746's eyes blinked back into focus, shaking his head slightly. "Never mind," he said with a shrug. "It's nothing important."

"Don't worry," 3745 assured, slipping his sword into the sheath on his belt. "I can relate."

_"Lance?" He spoke up again after a moment of blissful silence. Lance's breaths were calm and even, and for a second he thought the Blue Paladin fell asleep. "You still up?"_

_"Yeah," he said. "What is it?"_

_"...Do you think we'll find Shiro?" The worry had shackled him down since they'd gotten a tip about where his big brother was being held. It hounded him, drove him to find out whatever he could about this 'Nether'. It leapt out of his throat easily. It decided to bring its friends too. "What if we get there and the tip's wrong?" The doubt swirled around him like a vortex, sucking the air out of his lungs. "What if we find him, but we can't get him out?" He could feel his body growing more tense as he spoke. It felt like he was drowning in open air. "What if he's already--"_

_"Hey," both hands cupped his cheeks now. "Look at me." Keith did as he was told and met his boyfriend's eyes. "I want you to breathe with me, okay?" He took a deep breath. Keith mirrored his breath in. Then the breath out. They quickly got a calming pattern down- in, out, in, out- and he could feel his muscles starting to ease. "Feel better?" Lance asked._

_He nodded. "Much better," he said. "Thanks. I needed that."_

_"It's no problem," Lance shrugged it off. Then grinned at him. "I learned from the best."_

_Keith raised a brow and smiled warmly. "So you learned from yourself?"_

"So," he said, stepping up to the Officer. "What's our assignment today, sir?" The two weren't assigned together often, especially after 3746 was promoted above him, but he couldn't help but enjoy any assignments they had together. 3746 made his chest feel light for an unknown yet enjoyable reason. Yet another memory he couldn't place his finger on.

But sometimes in his dreams, 3745 could swear he's seen the Officer. Younger, with a full head of short choppy hair and a lot less scars. He was usually smiling in those dreams, and many of those smiles were pointed at him. They made him feel... special. A different kind of happiness- bubbly and warm and _real._

It was hard to see 3746 the same way after that. But he tried his best to.

"We're helping move a prisoner to the newer chambers," 3746 told him and started to walk briskly. "The workers finished them the other day."

3745 followed beside him. His brows furrowed slightly. They didn't have many prisoners they didn't put to work to start with, but almost none of them needed more than two armed guards to relocate. None of them except...

"...Is it Champion?" 3745 asked in a hushed tone.

3746 nodded. "Seems like the Galran Druids want their little pet prodigy back," he said. "There's going to be a trade-off tomorrow- Champion for a thousand Galra drones."

"Ah," he breathed. "That sounds... Well, not _fair,_ but good enough." A thousand extra hands would help speed things up, but Champion would destroy all of them single-handedly if he had the chance. If there was one thing more dangerous than a prisoner with Galra prosthetics, it was a prisoner with Galra prosthetics _and_ experimental Druid magic.

"Honestly, I'm just happy we're getting rid of him," 3746 said. "He's always given me a bad feeling, you know?" They turned a corner to a polished ashy gray staircase pointed up. The walls all looked the same to him, a metallic black with the occasional tiny slivers showing the shifting ink-like darkness behind it. It pulsed along with the thrumming beat all around them. "Like there's something... off about him."

"I know what you mean," he agreed, following him up the stairs. "The guy could probably get out and kill us all if he wanted to, but he just... stays still. Staring at me all the time with this _intense_ look."

3746 looked to him with slight surprise. "He stares at you too?" He whispered. "I thought it was just me."

He returned the expression. "So did I," he said. "It's really freaky, right?"

3746 nodded. "Yeah, it is." He looked around at the Nether's walls with a twinge of nervousness. "Like he _knows_ me or something. It's creepy as hell."

They were close to the top of the staircase. Champion's cell was at the very end of the right side of the hall lined with cells, much more fortified with energy fields than any other. Maybe Champion knew that. Maybe that was why he didn't bother trying to escape, and decided to spend his days sitting cross-legged and usually floating an inch off the ground. A calm swirling dark purple aura radiated off of him all the time, even when he wasn't using any magic. He spent most of his time seemingly lost in thought. His eyes almost always closed and expression soft and calm.

Until 3745 stepped into the room. He was only assigned to guard the prisoners a few times, but when he did, he tried his best to stay out of Champion's view. Because once he did, he could feel the man's piercing gaze on him. A weak presence would push at his mind. The man wouldn't change his expression in any way, just stare at him calmly. Unchanging. Unblinking.

So frankly, he was pretty happy to see the man go.

They both took out their weapons at the top of the staircase- 3745 his dark and jagged sword and 3746 his system powered rifle that shot bits of electricity at varying volts. It had three modes with a arrowhead knob to point at each one: stun, knockout, and deadly. Pretty self-explanatory what each one did.

The weapons hopefully wouldn't be necessary, but Champion was dangerous. Not many survived the Galra arenas, let alone _triumphed_ in one like Champion did. He practically left a trail of bodies in his wake. No matter what was thrown at him, no matter how many challenges were heaped heavily on his shoulders, he came out victorious. And that was _before_ all the experimentation and augmentation.

The weapons might not stop him if he got out, but the Nether would want them to at least try to subdue him instead of not fighting at all.

The hall was open to the left side. It showed the scale of the Nether nicely with miles and miles of dark open chamber. Other halls with their own view of the main chamber lined along the walls with small figures of guards and workers going about their jobs inside. In the middle, casting the entire chamber in a dim white light, was the core. It pulsed with energy like a heart, the halls lining around it the ribcage. With such a view and the beat thrumming in and out all around them, it was hard not to imagine the Nether as a sentient being.

It was less magnificent now that he was used to it, but he remembers seeing it for the first time a lifetime ago- stepping out of the ship in a straight line behind other recruits, getting to feel the Nether's rhythm for the first time. Looking out among the sea of varying bodies and seeing that light at the end of the metal catwalk welcoming all of them.

The chamber was a lot smaller back then.

To their right were the cells. All openings were blocked by a white energy field that was pretty thin, but would give you a nasty shock if you tried to touch it. To the left of each side was a holographic console that allowed you to deactivate the energy field and settings for the kind of food and drink that fell through the prisoner's hatch if they needed such things to survive. To the right was a lever to activate that hatch and send some food and a small container of whatever drink wouldn't poison the prisoner tumbling down into the cell.

Most of the prisoners in the cells were there before he was recruited. Most of them were valuable bargaining chips to other societies like Champion, people with valuable information, or 'retired' workers with dead minds and dying bodies. A lot kept to themselves- staring off into space, lounging around the floor or their metal cots, hitting their head against the wall and muttering to themselves, or some combination of the above. Most didn't bother the guards except to eat.

So 3745 couldn't help but jump a little when one of the prisoners suddenly went towards the cell door, banging on the wall to get their attention. The two stopped for a moment to stare at the prisoner.

This one looked new. Humanoid and soft, without any bones jutting out their frame or scars marring their skin. Their skin was a shimmering silver with soft grey swirling patterns lining what was visible. They didn't utter a word- they didn't even have a mouth or a nose, just gill-like flaps of skin on the sides of their neck. Their face was only made up of three eyes- two where eyes usually are and one stretched-out one below, roughly where a mouth would be. The two were purely red and blue, and the lone one was black tinged with purple. They all seemed to stare unblinkingly at the two for a moment before they started to blink.

With every blink, the colors switched eyes. Red and black above, blue below. Blue and black above, red below. Over and over again, the prisoner kept blinking at them. It was a mesmerizing show to watch, and 3745 could only wonder what it could mean.

Finally it stopped. The prisoner closed all their eyes and spoke in a low, guttural voice. The gills moved along to the words.

 _"Three enter, two leave. You will have to choose,"_ they said. Yet it didn't sound like they were talking to either of the guards. _"Soon."_

"...O-kay?" 3746 spoke up after a moment. "Let's just go."

3745 nodded. Something about the way they spoke, what they just showed, made him feel... uneasy. On edge. His shoulders instinctively tensed. Like he was expecting a fight.

Which was fair, considering Champion's reputation. They were coming up to his cell anyways. It was better to be ready for anything than dead.

But of course, something was wrong. The energy field was already off, and he couldn't see any of the other guards assigned to help them relocate Champion. His cell came up empty. No drag marks or signs of a fight save for a few drops of blood. Champion must've dealt with any guards quickly and tried to escape. But alarms would've gone off if Champion had run out of the hall. Which meant either one of two concerning things happened- either Champion was still hidden somewhere in the hall or his cell, or the Nether was allowing him to escape.

He didn't know which was worse.

"Keep alert," 3746 ordered, weapon ready. He stepped one foot into the cell. His eyes scanned the area warily, ready for the slightest movement. "He's probably still around he--"

A force pushing him into the cell cut off his order, sending him to the opposite wall with a grunt. Invisible fingers typed at the console quickly, re-activating the energy door before 3745 could move to help him. He pointed his sword towards where someone would stand at the console.

"Show yourself," he said in a steely voice. _"Now."_

"Gladly," the familiar voice sounded from behind him. He felt a calloused hand against his shoulder, and his nerves automatically locked up at the touch. That wasn't a metaphor or anything; his nerves _literally_ locked up. He couldn't move his muscles no matter how hard he tried. Champion shimmered into view in his peripheral. He looked to 3746 with a sad expression. "Sorry, Lance. I had to do that to you." Then the look moved to him. "I'm sorry for this too, Keith. I have to do this."

3746 sat up with widened eyes brimming with alarm. He scrambled to his feet, rushing to the door. _"No!"_ he screamed. "Don't you _dare_ do anything to him, _abomination!"_

Champion chuckled and moved in front of 3745's view with a halfhearted smile. "After all these years," he said. His prosthetic hand was burning white-hot by 3745's collar. The heat was radiating from it only centimeters away from him, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from it. "Some things don't change, do they?" His eyes shone with weathered pride.

A light purple energy travelled down Champion's non-prosthetic arm to the hand on his shoulder. Heat spiked up at the meeting point, traveling into 3745 with ease. He only had a few moments of searing pain before his mind was wrenched away from his body.

Memories and experiences flooded into it clear as day. Names to the murky faces- Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Allura, Coran, Lance. The bridges between his current life and the life he'd had before were repaired, puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. Keith Kogane- little brother, friend, teammate, hotheaded Red Paladin of Voltron. 3745- manipulated pawn, a link in the chains that wove with the Nether, guard, comrade. Both rolled into his mind and fused together into his memory. For the first time in ages, his mind didn't feel hazy or empty.

He felt _whole._

But his own experiences weren't the only memories he saw. Some of Shiro's memories bled through, shedding light on a few darkened corners. He saw a Galra torture room, felt aching agony as they embedded different substances into him to both make him more powerful and more obedient. Hazy memories lined with rage and power and screaming ending up with him in a crashed escape pod on an uninhabited planet. The Nether's shadow looming over him. Meditating in a cell- biding time and saving up 10 years worth of power- waiting for the right moment. Yearning to save both a friend and a family member. Relief that he finally could. Exhaustion looming taller over him with every magic-wielding moment.

For the first time in a very long while, Keith felt a tear run down his cheek. His collar fell to the floor with a barely-audible clang. He wanted to laugh, cry, wrap his big brother in a hug and never let him go again. But he didn't do any of that. He couldn't. A deep-seeded exhaustion settled into his bones like a four-hour training session on only a few minutes of sleep. His eyelids felt horribly heavy, and he fought just to stay conscious.

It was a battle quickly lost.

-

A knock sounded at his door. He stirred easily and sat up in his cot. "Come in," he said.

A yupper in uniform with a small nametag pinned on the front that read '4597' opened the door. She saluted him as best as she could. He groaned and got out of bed. After what happened yesterday, it didn't really take a genius to guess what she was here to get him for.

"Let me guess," 3746 said, getting his rifle from his bedside. "Overseer wants to see me?"

She nodded. "Yup."

"Immediately?"

Another nod. "Yup."

He sighed. "Of course they do," he stepped up to her. She towered over him, blocking most of the doorway and casting a shadow almost completely over him. "At ease, Guard." 4597 put her arm down and stepped aside to allow him out. "Thank you."

She bowed her head down in a silent _You're welcome._ He moved past her out to the hallway. He didn't usually drag his feet to the Overseer's office, but this time he went a bit faster than usual.

It wasn't hard to imagine what they were going to do to him once he got to their office. At best, he'd get chewed out for slacking at his hard-earned rank and stuck with torture chamber duty for a while. It wasn't pleasant, but he'd do it. The Nether's wrath wasn't something he wanted pointed at him for long.

At worst, well...

There were things worse than death.

Really, it was ridiculous. After being loyal to and effective at his duty for so long, he slipped up. And not in some trivial thing the Overseer could easily overlook. He just _had_ to screw up against the Nether's most valuable and dangerous prize. He'd be lucky if the Nether ever forgave him for going down so easily.

As he briskly walked past guards who solemnly bowed their heads at him like a dead man walking, he couldn't help but think about what had happened. Champion took two trained veteran guards completely by surprise, and won in less than a minute. Druid magic was strong, sure, but he'd never imagined it to be _that_ strong. It rendered the two of them trapped and helpless so quickly...

Seeing Champion around 3745, prosthetic hand burning so close to his neck... It made something swell up in his chest. An urge to protect the familiar guard, take care of whatever was threatening him so he wouldn't have to worry anymore. He thought it was just a sign he was better at his job than he'd thought at first. An easy dismissal and a bit of pride to go along with it.

But he started to think about it more on the grand staircase to the Overseer's office. Maybe it wasn't because of his job, but because of _who_ was being threatened. Champion's words rang in his head.

_"I'm sorry, Lance."_

_Lance..._

_"Some things don't change, do they?"_

It felt like a hand was pulling at a string in his brain. Trying desperately to get his attention at the name. It made him feel like he was missing something. Something important, yet locked away just out of his reach.

Stepping in front of the Overseer's imposing door reminded him that he might lose something else important very soon. He shook the thoughts from his mind and stepped in once the door slid open for him.

The Overseer stood on the opposite end of the darkened room, up a few stairs and behind a long dark console with dozens of blinking lights. They had their back to him. Instead, they faced the giant open window overlooking the Nether's main chamber a few hundred feet or so above the only entrance. White light lined their bulky imposing figure and long thick wires reaching up into the ceiling.

"Officer 3745," they said without facing him. "You've disappointed me. Countless cycles of exemplary work and loyalty, and you nearly muck it all up." His words were edged with the Nether's thrumming beat. Disappointment shook in his bones. "What do you have to say for yourself? Speak."

"I understand that I was foolish yesterday, Overseer." He said without hesitation. "I should have been more cautious, and I know I'm immensely lucky my mistake didn't cost our Nether any more than it did." He let out a slight shuddering breath. "I will accept any punishment you deem necessary for what I did."

The Overseer made a slight humming noise. They were communing with the Nether. Probably letting them choose the punishment. He waited in uneasy anticipation as a few more metallic hums filled the office.

"You are correct," they told him. "And our Nether, with boundless compassion, has decided to let you redeem yourself. I wanted to break you for what you needlessly risked, but I've been persuaded that that's not necessary. Any thoughts? Speak."

He blinked in slight surprise. "I..." He looked around him appreciatively. "...Thank you, Nether. I will do anything to repay you for your mercy." The Nether replied with a humming purr. The noise filled him with a strange nostalgia.

"We shall see," the Overseer said with a twinge of disdain. "You brought your rifle, correct? I trust you still remember those rules?"

3746 nodded in reply. He knew quite well what happened to unarmed guards outside of the barracks. The ice he stood on was thin enough without breaking any more rules or speaking up when not allowed to in the Overseer's presence.

"Good," they sounded a bit more pleased now. "I have decided an... appropriate way to redeem yourself for yesterday. You remember the penalty for even trying to take your Nether-blessed collar off, correct?" He nodded again in reply. "Well, your redemption lies in giving another that penalty." They pressed a button on the console, and the room was bathed in light once again. A familiar figure looked at him with widened purple eyes. "You remember Guard 3745, right?"

3745 looked at him desperately. He tried to speak over the cloth gag in and tied around his mouth, but all that came out was urgent muffled murmurs. He knelt down in the middle of the room hog-tied and facing him. 

"He is not like you," the Overseer explained, turning to face him. "He's rebellious, willful..." 3745's indignant murmurs were a perfect example as he struggled to get out of his bonds. "Really, getting rid of his collar is merely the last offense." They stepped closer to 3745. "Wills can be broken. People like him can be made to obey. But people like him who cannot are useless to the Nether." They stopped at his side. "So what the Nether wants you to do is simple, really- take that rifle and set it to the highest setting, line it up to his head, and fire. An easy redemption."

3745 stopped and stared at him with eyes threatened by tears. The only thing he tried to say was easy to decipher through the gag.

_"Lansch..."_

_Red, Blue, Black._

_Three enter, two leave. You must choose._

_Now._

**Author's Note:**

> I have 3 separate endings in mind (one for which one of the three dies) so I wanted to know which one you guys wanna see most: Blue and Red, Black and Blue, or Red and Black!  
> comments would be very much appreciated bc i'm an indecisive bitch  
> come yell at me on tumblr: squishy--squish


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